


Desperation

by Sid_Loves_Andy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Accidents, Desperation, Embarrassment, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Peter Quill, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 05:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sid_Loves_Andy/pseuds/Sid_Loves_Andy
Summary: Fill for the GotG kink meme. Prompt:Peter and Drax are taken hostage by some random bad guys. Then they are put in an awkward hold, as they are standing chest to chest with their arms held above their head with chains. After a while Peter gets annoyed because Drax won't stop *squirming* And after a short while realization dawns on Peter.





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> So I just realized that I started this fic several years ago and never actually finished it--so I hope that, by cross-posting it here, it'll give me the extra nudge to come back and finish it off. Here's a link to the original prompt: https://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=247054#t247054

As the blurriness of his vision slowly gives way to a vague conception of his surroundings, distorted by a dark red mask that could only be blood, Peter realizes that they've been captured.  
  
Just as his wits begin to return, he feels the sharp  _bite_  of a cut just above his left eye. It is fresh and angry, festering with possible infection. He distinctly remembers the cold  _smack_  of a piece of metal pipe connecting with his temple, but after that, his memory is blank.   
  
He can remember some of what occurred beforehand, but the bits and pieces swim in his memory, fragmented and disorganized. Trying too hard to make any sense out of them causes sharp, burning pain in his temples, and he can taste bile in the back of this throat as his stomach clenches painfully. And so he clears his mind, desperate to maintain some kind of control over his body, given the circumstances.  
  
And then something  _squirms_  against him.  
  
It isn't a necessarily  _pleasant_  feeling, especially considering that he previously thought himself to be alone. His eyes snap open, adjusting slowly to the darkness. It isn't long until he recognizes the familiar, yet vague outline of the Destroyer.   
  
As his eyes further adjust to the darkness, he's able to discern the damage done to his companion. Drax is sickly pale, his skin discolored from the abuse they'd both endured. Like Peter, his wrists are cuffed together as he dangles precariously from the ceiling. There are less than three inches between their bare chests.   
  
"Drax." His voice is scarcely above a whisper. The last thing he wants is to alert their captors to the fact that both their prisoners are conscious.  
  
The squirming stops abruptly. Drax looks up at Peter, but refuses to meet the half-Terran's eyes. "Peter, I had not realized that you were awake."  
  
"Yeah, well, it's kinda hard to sleep with you squirming like that." Peter closed his eyes, trying to ignore the burning sensation that spreads through his shoulders. Absently, he wonders how long they've been hanging there.  
  
"I am sorry." His apology is soft, distant, and almost immediately forgotten as Peter slowly drifts off...  
  
*****  
  
Peter awakens to once again find Drax squirming against him. And while he knows it can't be true, their bodies seem impossibly closer.  
  
The bleeding has stopped, though he can tell that the area around the wound is still irritated. Blinking his eyes causes immense pain, so he instead decides to focus them on Drax. Drax, who, if possible, looks even  _more_  uncomfortable than when Peter had laid eyes on him earlier.  
  
"Um... Drax?" The Destroyer is startled out of whatever was plaguing his mind, and looks at Peter with pained eyes.  
  
"I am fine, Peter." His reassurance fell short as he squirmed again.   
  
Peter rolls his eyes. "Oh, yeah. And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"I do not understand. You are neither a Queen, nor are you from Sheba." Drax says flatly.   
  
"It means that I don't believe you." Normally, he would not be so blunt about it. But the room that they are in is like a cave, and it causes their voices to echo and reverberate insanely loud.   
  
Drax grunts. It sounds painful and miserable and Peter's heart wrenches - he wishes that he could be a little more considerate about Drax's condition, whatever it might be, but his shoulders are on fire and he's just able to recognize the signs of concussion through the cloudy haze that's overtaken his mind. He forcefully reminds himself that he is not the only one experiencing discomfort.  
  
There is light coming in from a small, barred window in the upper corner of their holding cell. Judging by the quality of the light streaming in, versus the total darkness that had been present when he'd first woken up, Peter estimates that they've been captive for about eight to ten hours. This realization makes the burning in his shoulders even more pronounced.  
  
"Is it the pain?" He tries. He doesn't think that Drax would find the pain as awful as he does, but then, he's known to have been wrong before.  
  
Drax is startled by this. Startled enough to freeze and avert his eyes, embarrassed. "Pain?" Peter nods encouragingly, although this causes his vision to swim unnaturally. "Yes, it is painful."  
  
"I'm in a lot of pain too." Peter confesses. Tilting his head downward, he looks at the dirt floor below them. "We're about a foot off the ground, so there's no way to relieve the pressure. And squirming will only make the pain worse."  
  
Drax looks confused, but then he shakes his head. "No. The pain is... elsewhere."  
  
It takes a minute for it to process in Peter's pain-clogged brain. But then Drax is squirming again, attempting to make himself as small as possible, and what is troubling Drax suddenly becomes clear to Peter. Being captive for eight to ten hours is hell on the body in and of itself, but to have a full bladder on top of that?   
  
Drax is obviously horribly embarrassed by it. He's studiously avoiding Peter's eyes, doing his best to control the involuntary squirming. Peter tries to think of a way to address the issue that won't seriously maim their relationship or further embarrass him. But thinking too hard makes his head hurt and his vision blur, so he just throws caution to the wind and blurts out -  
  
"Aw, hell! Drax... do you... um..." all of that momentum floods out of him and he asks, "Do you have to pee?"  
  
Drax is silent for a moment and Peter thinks that he isn't going to answer. And then, there is a sigh. "Yes."  
  
Well, shit. He wants to reassure Drax that they'll be rescued soon, but, in reality, has no basis to make this claim. He has no clue where the  _Milano_  is, let alone it's proximity to their current location - or, even better,  _where they are in the first place_. And he has no clue how long he's been suffering through the pain that is attempting to deny the bladder it's desire to release.   
  
Eventually, he settles on, "Gamora and the others will be here soon, okay? You just have to hold on a little while longer."  
  
But even  _he_  isn't too sure anymore.  
  
****

Another hour passes and Drax isn't faring any better. Peter cannot sleep - the pain, combined with Drax's constant motion, makes the idea of a few seconds of shut-eye a distant dream. He's constantly telling Drax that it is okay, that they'll be rescued soon... but Drax is grunting (it's almost imperceptible, but in the utter silence that surrounds them, it seems that much louder) in pain and the squirming is getting worse.   
  
He exhausts himself coming up with new ways to try and distract Drax. The problem with most of these ideas is that they consist of metaphors or figures of speech, and instead of helping the situation, they fly right over Drax's head. When he finally tells Drax to think about sex, the look of helpless confusion and misery on the destroyer's face just about broke Peter.   
  
It is beginning to get dark again. Peter thinks back on what he little he knows about human anatomy and recalls that the human bladder, in some cases can take nine to ten hours to fill up fully in a young adult. But then, Drax is  _not_  Terran, and he hasn't the slightest clue as to the age of his teammate. It makes him feel bad, realizing how much he still has to learn about his new family. But now is neither the time, nor the place.  
  
Finally, Drax looks at Peter helplessly. He shifts helplessly, before confessing softly, "I am not sure how much longer I will be able to restrain myself. The pain is indescribable."  
  
Peter can only imagine the stress on his muscles just to try and  _not_  clench up. Clenching put pressure on the diaphragm, which, in turn, makes the need to release the bladder even worse. When this is added to Drax's mental battle to maintain control over his bladder, he is sure that the pain Drax is currently experiencing is unlike any they'd ever experienced.   
  
Without really thinking, Peter leans forward slightly and presses his knee between Drax's legs. Drax looks at him, suddenly unsure. "Go ahead. It's okay, Drax."  
  
"Peter," Drax is uncertain, embarrassed, even. Peter nods reassuringly, drawing the legs apart even further.  
  
"Drax, I'm not gonna sit by while you're in pain and just act like it's nothing. It's okay. Holding on for much longer could cause damage to your body. It's okay. Just... let go..."  
  
He relaxes a little, but still doesn't let go. "Peter."  
  
"I know." Peter nods, understanding that this must be mortifying for him. "And it's okay. You're not alone... I'm here, and I'm telling you that it's okay."  
  
There is a moment of complete silence. And then, Drax averts his eyes. Seconds later, he can hear the  _hiss_  as Drax finally relaxes, allowing the urine to exit his body. Peter cannot help but find his eyes drawn to the growing dark spot on Drax's trousers. Drax is avoiding his eyes and Peter stops searching for them when he finds himself straining against his own trousers. Natural bodily functions should  _not_  be this hot.  
  
If Drax notices Peter's sudden hard-on, he doesn't mention it. His suffering is quiet, and Peter wishes that he knew a way to comfort him, but he has a feeling that anything he says will only make the situation worse somehow. His trousers are completely soaked now, the yellowish material almost black. Not made to absorb so much liquid, most has dripped onto the floor. Peter squeezes his eyes closed and averts his eyes, because he has a feeling that his arousal will only add to Drax's confusion and mortification.


End file.
